


A very peaceful day for Will Graham. Until it's not.

by PuppyWillGraham



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Pre-Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Has a Nice Day, hannibal makes an appearance, meet and greet, pre-hannibal in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 12:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5164193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppyWillGraham/pseuds/PuppyWillGraham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casting the line feels similar to coming home, and he settles into the age old routine that comes with fishing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A very peaceful day for Will Graham. Until it's not.

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for Soraya, who asked for something with happy/fluffy Will Graham. An additional twist at the end has been added as a surprise.

It's a day off from lectures for Will Graham, and he's entirely too grateful for it. He enjoys his job, sure, and he enjoys the presence of his students, but he'd much prefer if all they did was listen rather than bombard him with questions even though he's bound to answer them if they just let him speak rather than interrupt him in the midst of it. It wore him out, if he was being honest, and he was, if any of his colleagues bothered to ask.

The first thing he does is try to sleep in. He'd had trouble with catching 40 winks in general, and that doesn't change just because he has a day off. He still has nightmares from what he's teaching about serial killers and murders in class, but they're not half as bad as he can imagine they would be if he was still active in the field.

Forgoing the Sunday-style lie in, he rounds up his dogs to let them out for a mid-morning run. It's peaceful, letting the pack roam out across the flat fields surrounding his little house, and he feels nothing but safe. All it takes is a whistle for the dogs to return to their master, so he can lead them back inside for breakfast.

The breakfast extends to himself, of course, but the dogs' food looks better presented than his own. It doesn't hinder him, despite the fact it's supposed to be the most important meal of the day. Setting the bowls down near the space heater, the dogs crowding around each of them, Will leans back against the counter to watch them, a bowl of cereal in his hands.

Like pets, like owner, they finish eating at the same time.

Will takes a shower next, just on the colder side, to wake him up completely. He'll take another tonight, or maybe even a bath, just to treat himself. He deserves it, he reasons to himself. Once he's stepped out of the shower, he gets dressed, slipping a sweater on and his fishing jacket.

Looking at the clock, he sees that it's only around 10:30AM, and he still has the rest of the day to do whatever he likes. He decides he'll go fishing, a smile finding its way onto his face at the thought of catching himself something nice for dinner. It's one of his favorite hobbies, always capable of taking him out of his own head for as long as he partakes in the peaceful activity.

Even if he doesn't catch anything, Will thinks it will have been a day well spent.

Gathering up a fold out chair, his rod, line, ball bearings, tackle box, and bait, he places them in the trunk and back seat of his car, before sorting himself out something for lunch. Just a simple tub containing a couple of cheese sandwiches, crisps, an apple, and juice he dilutes himself in a clear plastic bottle once used to hold water. He places that in a cooler bag, and the cooler bag on the floor of his car.

The drive out to a lake he usually fishes at is quiet and not too long, less than an hour, another smile on his face as he sets up at the water's edge. Folding out the chair, he takes a seat, his fishing equipment set to his right and his cooler bag set to his left. For a few minutes, he inhales the air that holds a hint of that familiar scent which comes with a fishing lake, exhaling slowly as he watches the water, his eyes scanning across the surface for any ripples.

There are a few, and he figures he may be able to catch something, after all.

With hands that know exactly what they're doing, he sets up his fishing equipment; he connects the reel to the pole first, then the ball bearings to the line with the purpose of easing up any friction that comes with casting the line and reeling it in, and finally, rooting through different baits and lures, he settles on live maggots for now and hooks it after tying that at the end of his line.

Casting the line feels similar to coming home, and he settles into the age old routine that comes with fishing. If he were less awake than he was, thanks to the cold shower he took an hour or so earlier, he'd probably fall asleep with how peaceful and warm it is. He keeps the rod in his hands rather than set it up to balance on Y-shaped splitters, feeling the tension of the line when there are nibbles and bites.

By the end of the day, with the sun just starting to set on the horizon, Will has caught a small number of fish. The majority he had set free back into the water, keeping two for himself to gut and cook for dinner that night. Packing up all his equipment, he places it back into his car before driving home.

After he has placed all of the equipment away, along with setting the small cooler bag containing the catch of the day on one of the kitchen counters, he lets his pack of dogs out for an early evening run. Preparing and cooking his meal doesn't take too long, and soon enough, he takes the seat already set on the porch to eat his dinner whilst overlooking his makeshift family exploring the grounds surrounding his little safe haven.

It's probably the most peaceful he's ever been, even with the work he does regarding his lectures, but it could be a lot worse, he supposes. All his peace and quiet could be disturbed.

Finishing his meal, he sets the empty plate down beside the leg of the chair he's sat in and allows Buster, the smallest of his pack, to jump up onto his lap for petting. He runs a hand over his furred back, smiling softly to himself as his hand is licked for good measure. He could fall asleep, right then and there, if none of the other dogs start sniffing by his feet to get to the plate set down.

Shifting enough so that Buster jumps down from his lap, Will stands after scooping the plate up again so he can wash up. The dogs follow him back inside and the majority flop down onto their beds, or Will's bed, which he allows every so often. He feels content enough to allow it again now, without tsk-ing or softly scolding them for misbehaviour, the dirty dishes and cutlery soon back in their rightful places.

He's about to take a seat in his favourite arm chair when he hears footsteps fast approaching, the gravel making a presence known, then the telltale thud of steps ascending the porch and a prim knock on the door. The peace has been disturbed, and a furrow mars Will's brows at the fact, before unlocking and opening it without even checking beforehand as to who it could be.

"Good evening," a deeply accented voice washes over the lecturer, gazes not quite meeting but always dancing close enough to just touch. "I was wondering if you had a telephone I could use?"

Will says nothing, a bit stunned that anyone would approach the only house for miles around. Nobody had ever done it before, until now. The look on his face must prompt the other man, who's a bit taller but not by much, to speak again, as smooth as butter.

"My car has broken down at the end of the road. I could do with some assistance. If that's okay?"

Will can hardly turn him away, despite the fact that he could be a serial killer, for all he knows. And he knows a lot about serial killers.

"Sure," he also has a pack of dogs at his disposal. Who barely even turn an ear towards the stranger standing in their master's doorway. Typical. "I'm Will, by the way."

The stranger smiles as he's allowed inside, the door quietly closed behind him, speaking across his shoulder as he introduces himself in return, "Dr. Lecter, but you can call me Hannibal."

"Graham. Will Graham." Why is he suddenly being so open towards a stranger? A doctor, no less. From the look of him, probably not one of the body. He rubs the pads of his fingers beneath his glasses to maybe poke his eyes out, half wanting to succeed so he stops analyzing simply from someone else's appearance.

"Your phone?" The silence between them isn't exactly uncomfortable, but Hannibal has taken note of the dogs and he doesn't want all that fur on his suit which he'd just had pressed earlier that afternoon. He also has an event to attend, in his honor. He can't turn up too late.

It would be rude.

"Ah, sorry," Will is prompted into action and hands over his mobile phone, which was already in his pocket. "I'll leave you to it."

He can't just stand there, hovering by the other man, feeling no less awkward than when in the presence of company he knows and is familiar with. He turns and starts cleaning his glasses, soon returning them to perch on his nose, sliding them up until they're an effective barrier against other people again. As usual.

Hannibal watches Will in the corner of eye, his peripheral, even as he hums in answer to questions that require no more an answer than that simple noise of agreement. The other man fidgets, and he wonders if he does that all of the time or if it's just in the presence of strangers. He presses the tip of his tongue to one of his incisors to stop himself from analyzing as he's often wont to do when something, or someone, piques his interest. Ending the call with assistance on its way momentarily, Hannibal thumbs over the screen of the phone before clearing his throat and handing the device back to it's owner.

"Thank you," Hannibal murmurs, sincere and genuine in his gratitude for the help he's received. "I-"

"It's no-," Will's cheeks are slightly flushed, not having meant to interrupt the other. "Sorry."

"I appreciate it," Hannibal intones, able to tell the interruption was not on purpose. "I'll wait on the porch, assitance will be here soon. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Graham."

Will looks a bit stricken as Hannibal makes his way back outside, until he releases the breath on an exhale he wasn't aware he was even holding under the watchful eye of the well put together man he tries ever so hard not to analyze, or call back inside for the company Will suddenly finds himself wanting to welcome. He rubs a hand over his face, mindful of his glasses still set on the edge of his nose, which he slides up again. He stays in that spot until assistance arrives and Hannibal seemingly walks right back out of Will's life again.

He doesn't know why he doesn't feel a rush of relief when company is gone, but instead a regretful pang deep in his chest as a bout of loneliness he often forgets that comes with his lifestyle makes itself known yet again, but never usually this strongly.

It's not until he's nearly falling asleep that he receives a text message from 'H', a frown appearing on his face that soon falls away as he realizes in quick succession how Hannibal had managed to get his number (did he just have a really good memory?) and how he now had Hannibal's (he should probably be more careful when handing out his mobile rather than his home phone).

An invitation for dinner that weekend graces the screen, and Will slowly leans back in bed, deciding that he'll maybe accept in the morning. After he's spent the whole night thinking about whether it's a date or not. Instead of being able to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This was only supposed to be a fluffy thing including Will Graham but as I've taken so long in typing it up and getting it posted, I thought it was only fair to add some hannigram to it at the end. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it, and most of all Soraya (ily). Comments, kudos and bookmarks are always appreciated, thank you for reading.


End file.
